Free Knight of Desire by Margaret Mallory Page A

Without taking his eyes off the pair, he shrugged the man off.
    “William!”
    “What is it?” he hissed, turning to find Edmund beside him.
    “Do you want to find yourself in chains in your own dungeon, man?” Edmund said out the side of his mouth.
    William turned his attention back to the couple. His blood pounded through his veins as it did on the verge of battle. Feeling
     a hard jab in his ribs, he turned and glared at Edmund.
    “You are looking at the Prince of Wales with murder in your eyes,” Edmund persisted in a low, urgent voice. “Some of his men
     have taken notice.”
    This time, William took heed of the warning. Glancing about, he saw the two knights watching him, their hands touching the
     hilts of their swords. He relaxed his stance and smoothed his features, and the two knights did likewise.
    He did not slip again. He maintained an easy, bored expression—even when Prince Harry drew his wife to a small table against
     the far wall for a game of chess.
    From the corner of his eye, he watched the two laughing and talking. Just when he was sure he could not feel more wretched,
     their laughter died. They leaned across the table and spoke in low voices, their game forgotten.
    Frustrated that he could not hear their words, he moved closer. His heart missed several beats as Catherine reached out to
     touch the scar under the prince’s eye, where he had taken an arrow at the Battle of Shrewsbury. Despite the wound, he led
     the attack on Hotspur’s flank.
    The prince made a face and leaned back from her touch. “Please, Kate, I know it is hideous to look at.”
    “Nay, it is not. That mark is a sign you are special to God, that he protects you,” Catherine said earnestly. “If it were
     otherwise, that arrow surely would have killed you.”
    Their exchange ended when William took position behind his wife and put a possessive hand on her shoulder. Feeling her body
     tense at his touch, he clenched his jaw so tightly it began to ache.
    The prince showed no sign of discomfort at being caught in the midst of an intimate conversation with another man’s wife.
    “Becoming a prince must have made me a better chess player,” he said in a voice heavy with irony. “Lady Catherine is the only
     one who has retained the ability to beat me.”
    William had not bothered to observe the chess pieces before. Dropping his gaze to the table now, he saw that the prince’s
     king was caught in the cross paths of Catherine’s bishop and queen.
    “You win this time.” With a flick of his finger, the prince knocked his king on its side. Then he stretched his arms and added,
     “But once is luck.”
    “ ’Twas much too easy,” Catherine said, looking off to the side as though exceedingly bored. “Soon I shall find it too dull
     to play with you at all.”
    William was startled to hear her openly insult the prince. Before he could gather himself to say something to soften her words,
     the prince guffawed and slapped the table.
    “You shall regret those words, sweet Catherine,” Prince Harry said, his eyes gleaming. He began putting the pieces back into
     place for another game. “This time, I shall humiliate you. Nay, I shall make you weep with remorse!”
    The prince’s loud challenge drew the other men, and wagers were made. Observing the game, William could see that the two players
     were well matched. Catherine fought hard, but this time it was her king that was toppled.
    William pulled out his leather purse and paid coins all around. None, save him, had dared bet against the prince.
    Catherine excused herself then, and the men settled into talk of war and rebels again. Without the distraction of his wife,
     William’s usual interest in military matters returned. As they talked into the wee hours, he found he could not help liking
     Prince Harry. He was so young and earnest. Yet, there was power in him, too. He was a man other men would follow.
    William chastised himself for overreacting. Harry was an